


electric shocks on aching bones

by sevenminutes



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenminutes/pseuds/sevenminutes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>young love and new tattoos. a short pre-canon scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	electric shocks on aching bones

A hiss of pain leaves her lips before her mouth drops open with a breathless laugh, half pleasure and half surprise. Stilling her hips on top of his, Tara looks over her shoulder at him, all swollen lips and desire-flushed cheeks, narrowing her eyes.

“ _Jackson_ –”

He's _Teller_ to her usually. On rare occasions of tenderness and vulnerability, _Jax_. But he's almost always Jackson in bed. His cock throbs inside of her in response to hearing his name and he grins back at her. He's not complaining.

“ _Tara_?” The very picture of innocence leaning against his headboard, Jax moves his broad hands to settle over her hips instead of where they had been, cupping her ass. Even still, he can’t seem to stop his thumbs from drawing little patterns against the silky skin there, tracing the line that her panties left after he peeled them off of her.

Tara takes the time to pull her hair over one shoulder, adjusting her position slightly with a roll of her hips, enough to make him stifle a moan. That'll teach him.

“That _hurts_ , ya know–” She nods down to the small of her back, the freshly inked crow with proudly spread wings staring back at them. The same spot that Jax had just raked his fingernail across.

“Yeah? I'm familiar with the concept.” He's all full of snark and sass, despite the very somber addition to his own body underneath the bandage covering his forearm. Leaning up, Jax grins as he eases her up and then down again on his cock. "But I think we both know you _liked it_.”

Tara's cheeks flush a deeper shade of rose as she ducks her head and leans forward, starting to move her hips again with him. The truth was, she had loved the mixture of pleasure and pain that she felt in that moment. Not that she was going to admit it to him.

“It's _distracting_ ,” she mutters around a moan as she speeds up, arching her back into the movement.

A throaty laugh leaves Jax’s chest as he leans back for a better view of her new tattoo, watching her ass as she rides him. Facing away from him like this isn’t his favorite position. He likes to be able to run his fingers through her hair, to pull her in for a kiss when the urge strikes him. But tonight, this is appropriate.

He can see her front in his dresser mirror, and Jax lets out a deep sigh of contentment as his hand runs up her back and over her shoulder, his rough palm brushing over her nipple as he slides his hand across her front and down over her belly. His fingers find her clit, and his smile slowly widens as Tara’s breathing catches and her hips stutter to a stop over his again.

“Jacks– Jackson–!” It’s little more than a whimper as her eyes close and Tara comes hard around him, her toes curling at his sides and her head falling back for a moment.

Her orgasm is all the signal he needs from her to take over, easily switching their positions to settle himself between her spread thighs, kissing her as he leans his weight on his left arm, his right hand greedily kneading at her breast under his chest.

Two years together has made them both very familiar with this part of the story, the moment when Jax's patience succumbs to his arousal and the need to be in control. Always willing to yield to him, this evening is no exception as Tara bucks up against him, kissing him when she can and taking deep, gasping breaths when she can't bear not to.

She's spread out beneath him, her tattoo being rubbed raw against the worn sheets on the bed, faded ivory and older than them both, as he thrusts into her hard and deep. He needs this, tonight especially, and she can't help but feel grateful to have him with her, her hand coming to rest atop the bandage covering his forearm to guide his hand lower to touch between them.

She's sixteen, he's eighteen. Her best worst decision.

If her father was conscious half the time he should be, he would have a problem with this, her sleeping over at an outlaw clubhouse or sneaking her biker boyfriend in through her window at night. But he's not. He hasn't been aware of things in seven years, not since her mother died. While her father spent those years in a drunken stupor, she spent them feeling angry and bitter. Being with Jax has been good for her, helped her to find joy, to feel alive, to feel connected to someone. That’s what tonight, the crow, was about.

“Tara–”

He's close, his voice deep and strained with desire. His brilliantly skilled, calloused fingers still touching her, striking just the right balance between pleasure and greedy need, all hint of teasing gone, to bring her over the edge with him.

He's always bringing her with him, everywhere, and she wouldn't want it any other way.

Tara cries out all of a sudden, her hips jerking as she comes hard around him, her nails digging into his neck where her hand had been resting, holding his head as he kissed her. Her other hand tightens around his bandaged forearm, crushing the gauze against fresh ink and broken skin.

A raw cry, pain and the sweet anguish of delayed release, is torn from Jax's throat as he thrusts into her desperate and hard in response. The intent to kiss her shoulder becomes a bite deep enough to mark as he finds himself unable to hold back longer, coming hard inside of her.

“Mmngh–!”

Her eyes widen with a gasp before she squeezes them tightly shut, unable to feel anything but the pleasure shuddering through her body.

“G-god–!”

She sobs as the third orgasm hits her, Jax groaning in her ear as he feels it, too. Coming back to himself a bit, he runs his hand up her side, stroking her hip and ribcage. He's still breathing hard when he pulls his head up and starts kissing her neck and shoulder, his lips soothing the red mark that his teeth left.

No one but her knows him like this, how sweet and tender he can be in these moments after the rush of need passes, and that makes her smile. Catching her expression, Jax smiles too, his hand cupping her cheek before he threads his fingers through her hair, his eyes catching the blue streak in his honor and making his smile widen a little more.

“What?” he asks with that characteristic nod of his chin.

“Nothing,” she whispers, her hand coming to his jaw and brushing her fingers against four-day stubble.

“Just thinking about how…” _How much she loves him._ Tara grins suddenly, wiggling her ass against his sheets. “… how your _sheets_ are probably covered in _ink_ now, since you decided to flip me over.”

A throaty laugh leaves him, Jax hugging her close enough that she can feel it reverberating in his chest. He knows what she was going to say, that it had nothing to do with the ink on the sheets, and everything to do with the ink in her skin.

“S'all right, darlin'…” His eyes spark with mischief as he looks her over, running his thumb across her full lower lip. “Not the only thing on the sheets tonight.”

As much as she wishes they wouldn’t, Tara feels her cheeks flush from his words, her eyes automatically looking between them. She's not on the pill, and it's a stupid ass thing to do, to go without a condom. She knows that. Sometimes though, very occasionally, she just can't help but need to feel connected to just him. It felt appropriate that tonight should be him and her and them together and that's that.

“Besides,” Jax continues, easing them into a more comfortable position and pulling her on top of him to take the pressure off of her back, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don't mind you leaving a little mark in my bed.”

She smiles at that, soft and sweet, a smile just for him, and bends her head to kiss his chest just above his heart. Feeling it beat strong and steady, even and sure against her cheek, she can't help but be grateful for the doctors he had all the way back in 1978.

“I love you, Jackson.” She whispers it so gently, almost like the words are an old photograph that you can barely touch for the fear that it will crumble before your eyes.

“I love you, Tara.” There’s no hesitation in his voice, the confession as solid as forged steel.

Tara closes her eyes at the feeling of his hand running into her hair, the simple relief of having him _there_ , having him love her. Burrowing close to his chest, she breathes in the lingering smell of leather and motor exhaust that seems to permeate his skin, feeling comforted by it as she feels one of his hands move to gingerly cover the new addition at the base of her spine.

It might be first love bullshit, but the aching in her bones, the kind that only ever abates when she’s with him, tells her that she needs him in her life. And maybe it’s her imagination, but the look on his face when he just holds her like this, tells her that he needs her just as much. Maybe, just _maybe_ , he aches, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my beta, missgoalie75! One note you might have noticed: as far as ages go, canon has always been a little murky. Rather than make Jax and Tara the same age as is sometimes implied, I went with their canon birth years of 1978 for Jax and 1980 for Tara. This was written quickly. Something short and sweet! Hope you enjoyed!


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